


Even your Garment Plunders my Eyes; I am Enchanted

by Dancains



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: (trademark), Crossdressing, Episode: s01e06 A Mercy, Light Drinking, M/M, Roleplay, THE DRESS, general sillyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 18:32:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20412388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancains/pseuds/Dancains
Summary: "How dare you, Sir? How dare you take such liberties with an innocent, young thing like me?" he pleaded with indignation.Edward couldn't help but grin. It seemed Thomas had a skill for amateur theatrics."Quite easily, I'll admit, when the object of my desire appears more than willing." He paused, further drinking in the vision that had dropped into his lap, "Something makes me suspect you are far from an innocent, my dear."





	Even your Garment Plunders my Eyes; I am Enchanted

**Author's Note:**

> Been slowly working on this for quite a while. My longest Thank You ever to [vegetas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegetas/pseuds/vegetas) for excellent beta-ing, feedback, and encouragement!!
> 
> Title from [this](https://www.thissideofsanity.com/poem/poem0208/poem27.html) Sappho translation. The text used at the beginning of the fic is translated by Mary Barnyard.

_Be kind to me_

_Gongyla; I ask only_  
_that you wear the cream_  
_white dress when you come_

_Desire darts about your_  
_loveliness, drawn down in_  
_circling flight at sight of it_

_and I am glad, although_  
_once I too quarreled_  
_with Aphrodite_  
_to whom_  
_I pray that you will_  
_come soon_

___

Fitzjames had thrust a drink upon him, before Edward retired to the ship, and, belatedly, he was glad for the simmering warmth in his belly as he trekked over the ice. He had left not long after the men had arrived, their joyous hollering still ringing in his ears.

It was bittersweet, now knowing what was soon to come. At least tonight they could enjoy their well-earned merriment. Meanwhile, Terror's first lieutenant was exceedingly lucky that his request to return to the ship, to stand sentry on it in place of their out-of-commission leader, didn't appear to deviate from his usual character.

From what Thomas told him that morning, Crozier's careful concealment would soon come to an end. The man was nearly back to health and he was to retire early, on the night of Fitzjames' carnival, and arise again with the reemerging sun, retaking command in its soft, crowning light. Edward's very heart and soul ached with admiration, knowing the captain owed his recovery, and quite possibly his life, to Thomas' labors. 

He knew he would find Thomas in the storeroom they had agreed upon, down in the depths of the vessel, where he had been sorting through trunks of costumes and decorations just that morning. How strange the ship was filled with these impractical things, made all the more inane, in Edward's eyes at least, after the gruesomeness they had yet endured here. At least now they would serve some purpose, to be used up and eventually tossed away, left among the rotting wood planks as the ships were ultimately abandoned to the frozen elements.

Part of him felt more and more used up as time went by, continually diminishing like their stores and supplies and morale. But now was not the time to succumb to those notions. He straightened his back and shoulders, righting himself. 

When he carefully slid open the door, he was finally greeted by the sight of his beloved, looking tired but pleased all the same. Wordlessly, he crept into the glow of the lamplight, taking Thomas up into his arms. For a moment they merely held each other, Thomas' chin nestled upon his shoulder, fingers gently petting Edward's cap-crumpled hair.

He was uncertain if the steward knew they were walking out, but Thomas was sharp-witted, and had probably pieced it together. It was the last thing Edward desired to speak of, not wanting to tarnish this rare opportunity they had together with fear and foreboding. Finally Thomas drew back far enough to bequeath him a chaste brush of their lips, a small taste of what was to come. 

Edward grinned. "Are you sure you'd not rather be at carnival?" He teased. "There is not a single man I know more deserving of gaiety. "  
Thomas leveled him a coy smirk, the likes of which made Edward's toes curl deliciously in his boots. How was it that this lovely creature was his? "I think I have everything I might need for a night of merriment here within an arm's reach."

His mouth met Edward's again, harder and more urgent, his lips soon yielding to the wet intrusion of Edward's tongue. A low, heady moan, ripped from deep in Thomas' throat, the sound hitting Edward like a blow.

All of their previous assignations had been consigned to the necessity of silence, but they both knew they had little to fear that night. Besides the two men on watch Edward had greeted as he came aboard, there were perhaps only a few men sleeping in sickbay, along with the captain in his own state of fitful slumber. All were many decks above, further muffled by the perpetual creaking of ice. It was as if the stars in the heavens had neatly aligned, so he and Thomas could align in turn.

He trailed down Thomas' neck, lips rasping against that first shadow of stubble Thomas battled so earnestly with his razor each morning. Suckling a love bite where it would be hidden behind the man's collar, he paused just long enough to murmur a question. "Was that wine I tasted upon your lips, Mister Jopson?"

Thomas laughed, jerking his chin towards a glass bottle, set on the floor in the corner. "As a steward, I must always be ready to refresh an officer's drink," he said with the utmost severity. "Though, I have no cut crystal glass for you, I'm afraid."

"You _cheeky_ little thing." The more Edward got to know Thomas, the more Thomas surprised him. 

In response, Thomas only kissed him soundly, smothering his own school-boy grin. His hands came to Edward's jaw, as they often did when they were alone together, fingers stroking the growth of his whiskers, like he was some beloved cat. Edward was far more fond of the gesture than he would readily admit.

"Why don't you have a seat and make yourself comfortable?" Thomas whispered. "You had to walk all the way back, after all...and I have a surprise."

Something more than a pilfered bottle of madeira? Some sort of gift? Brimming with curiosity, he obeyed, using one of the empty crates as a seat. He shed his outer coat, taking a swig from the bottle in question as he settled himself. 

The irony didn't escape him, that they were indulging in the same vice that nearly threw their captain over a precipice that couldn't be returned from, but he submerged the passing thought. If the men on the ice were having their bacchanalian revelries, by God, so would he and Thomas.

"Close your eyes," said Thomas intently. "And don't open them until I say so."

Edward made a noise of consent, even covering his eyes with his hand for show. Just being around Thomas, especially away from the constraint of duty, made him giddy. His voice alone could make Edward's head spin. Eyes squeezed shut, he imagined he could hear the creaking of another wooden box, perhaps even the rustling of clothes. Some remaining carnival costume? The wait felt a short eternity, even as he wished the night to go on without end.

"You may look." Thomas sounded nearly breathless.

The first thing that stood out was the shape--fanning out on either side as if Thomas had donned a heretofore unseen great coat. Eward blinked. Then there was the color: a shimmering dusky rose, almost lavender, like faded petals pressed into a well-loved book. The fabric, crushed velvet, looked tantalizing soft, even as it clung to the hard, masculine body beneath it.

Thomas smoothed down the front of the dress, fingers lingering in the heftier skirt. Ribbons hung from each wrist, where the sleeves were meant to be laced, swinging from the errant movement. 

"Well...say something.” A crisp flush had crossed Thomas’ cheeks.

Words--damned, blasted words. Why had Edward no talent for them? How could he even begin to express that Thomas was the most entrancing thing he had ever laid eyes upon, the sweet tableau of an angel set upon the earth, a guiding light in the darkness? Or perhaps a devil, sent to drive him (a simple, corruptible man) to paroxysms of lust and passion and carnal appetite. Thomas proved to be all those things in one, driven together in that singular moment.

It seemed that Edward could furnish no answer, only wide-eyed stupefaction.

"I thought at least..." Thomas' voice quavered, a sharp departure from his usual composure. "I thought at least, it would make you laugh. And God knows I'd like to see a smile on your face. But perhaps this was too far." 

Did he think Edward was repelled? Scandalized? Thomas reached behind himself, as if to unlace the garment. "I'll take it-"

"_No._ Good Lord, Tom. Don't take it off." 

He had seen Thomas' body in bits and pieces, snatches of stolen time they found together, mapping warm flesh with his fingers in the dark, usually under billowy linen shirts, snug waistcoats and thick woolen jumpers. The dress--probably intended as a costume for a play the men might put on, certainly more Elizabethan in style than modern--did little to hide the narrowness of of Thomas' hips, or the broadness of his elegant shoulders. The plunging 'V' of the neckline, no doubt meant to accentuate a woman's bosom, teasingly revealed the beginning of a dark trail of hair. Edward knew, intimately, just how far down it continued.

"Oh? You like it, then?" In a familiar movement, Thomas brushed a few disarrayed strands of hair back into place. 

Edward's legs reflexively spread a few inches farther apart. He was worried they might buckle under his own weight if he tried to stand, the way his whole body was vibrating with want. His teeth kneading into his bottom lip, he gave one of his thighs a firm pat, like the swat one might give to a horse's hindquarters, hoping the invitation was unmistakably clear.

Thomas' eyes widened. Then, regaining his bearings, he smiled coquettishly and gathered up his skirt.

"How kind of you to offer me a seat." Padding across the small space with stocking feet, he came to drape himself side-saddle across the lieutenant's lap.

Edward savored the comfortable weight and heft of him, wrapping his free hand around Thomas' middle to keep him firmly in place. Now so close, he could better study the intricate bead work that adorned the bodice and neckline. It all looked so delicate and fine--and all the more striking adorning such a striking man. He was hazily transfixed by the way each bead and button glittered in the low lamp light, the entire world narrowing to Thomas' velvet clad physique.

"And something to wet my whistle." Thomas deftly plucked the bottle from Edward's hand. "I'm in the presence of a _gen'leman_ tonight."

His usual affectations were slipping--whether it was deliberate or unintentional, Edward could not tell--the second syllable of 'something' erupting with a sharp 'F'. Thomas half sounded like some tawdry East End bar maid, and the thought sent another stab of pulsing heat to his more delicate organs.

Edward watched Thomas' bobbing Adam's apple, mesmerized as the steward took a lengthy swig. Pulling him even tighter, he pressed his lips and nose to the supple base of the man's neck, where the tendon met his shoulder, nearly causing Thomas to drop the bottle of wine. He had a soap-clean sort of smell to him, aided by a dab of rose water, perhaps, alongside the underlying trace of sweat, which held no surprise when the room was growing as warm as it was.

Meanwhile, Edward's other hand sought desperately for the hem of the dress, tugging it high enough that he might snake his hand underneath to caress Thomas' slim, wool stocking clad calves and the warmth of his bare knees above. Rightfully, he decided, Thomas deserved to be wrapped in even more luxurious finery, the loveliest black silk hose with white lace welts that money could buy. They were dreams for a future that felt impossibly distant.

"Oh, I shan't behave like a gentleman for long," he murmured against the dip of his lover's collar bone.

Thomas gasped, playfully swatting away his exploring hand. "How dare you, Sir? How dare you take such liberties with an innocent, young thing like me?" he pleaded with indignation.

Edward couldn't help but grin. It seemed Thomas had a skill for amateur theatrics.

"Quite easily, I'll admit, when the object of my desire appears more than willing." He paused, further drinking in the vision that had dropped into his lap, "Something makes me suspect you are far from an innocent, my dear."

"You horrid man," Thomas tapped him on the cheek, not anywhere near hard enough to wipe away the wolfish smile. Despite his modest strength and solidness of form, he now held himself ever so daintily upon Edward's thighs. "I may not appear a lady of fine breeding, but I'll have you know that my father is the captain of a fine ship, in Her Majesty's Royal Navy, in fact. A great brute of a captain, with a reputation for discipline. To think, what he would say if he knew of your designs upon me!"

Edward knew Thomas' own father was long passed, and the idea that he might be playing at being Crozier's kin, even purely in jest, was keenly endearing.

"Oh? Well then, he should know that I, myself, am an officer and a gentleman. An upstanding Naval lieutenant, precisely, with not a single black mark upon my record. Beyond that, I do come from a well-connected family, and though it is not much, I have property waiting for me back in England. Indeed, he would have little reason to protest if I were to ask for your hand. A right naughty one like you--and approaching thirty, to boot--he'll be eager to have you off and wed. _Desperate,_ even."

Gently, he carded his fingers through Thomas' silken hair, as if to reaffirm his matrimonial ownership. Thomas carefully considered the weight of his argument.

"Then I suppose I have no choice but to submit to your...animalistic affections, as unwanted as they are." He sighed, with no lack of melodrama.

Edward made a show of peering down at where Thomas' skirt was now quite tented. "Yes, I can see the signs of your obvious displeasure," he deadpanned.

They both broke out into frenzied fits of laughter, clutching at each other as they shook with the might of it. Edward imagined he felt a drunkenness that had little to do with any liquor in him.

"You know, I cannot believe...your audacity..." Thomas told him sternly, gasping to regain his breath.

He figured Thomas was still play-acting, and hummed in curiosity. "My audacity, Miss?"

"Yes! To go around calling yourself _Little_," Quite abruptly, he worked a hand between them and pawed at the stiffness between Edward's legs, "when you're carrying around _all this_ in your trousers. An utterly shameful deceit."

He quivered and strained at the touch, the muscles in his thighs jumping. If it had been an attempt to draw even more pearls of laughter from his throat, it had quite a contrary effect. With his head swimming, he barely knew what words he strung together in response.

"I'm sorry for such a deception, unintended as it was. Now, whatever could I do to earn your good graces?"

He pulled Thomas by the chin, though the steward needed no guiding nor encouragement to be met in an impassioned, open-mouthed kiss. His day-to-day anxieties melted away, like candle wax from a burning wick, as he ran his hands down Thomas' velvet- soft arms and back, while Thomas mussed and tugged at his curls.

The blunt nails scraping his skull all the while Thomas' mouth worked vigorously against his own, seemed to soothe some damnable itch hidden so deep inside his ribs he couldn't begin to scratch it himself. He was so utterly lovesick for this man, would drown himself in Thomas gladly, if only to feel something akin to the blissful sting of ice-water prickling every inch of his skin.

Tilting his head back to better accommodate Thomas' position, their kiss became more and more urgent and pressing in force, until the need arose to part for breath, a veritable cloud about their mouths. Thomas took the opportunity to stand, and straddle him again properly, pulling up his skirts just enough that he could hook both legs over Edward’s thighs.

Just that brief flash of creamy thighs made Edward’s fingers grow restless. How many hours had he spent studying Thomas’ legs and he paced to and fro, dusting the great cabin or serving a round of drinks. “Have you no modesty, Miss? Who knows what ruffians might be about.” How easy it would be to simply disrobe the steward now, play-acting be damned.

Thomas guided Edward’s hands away from the fabric’s hem, settling them upon his own shoulders. “I’m sure my virtue is safe in your protection.”

Soon they were rutting together, slowly and sensuously, through the bunched up layers of skirting and trousers. The steward's deft fingers lazily plucked and pulled at Edward's uppermost buttons, loosening his neck cloth in the process and letting it drop to the floor. Time seemed to flow like thickening honey.

Tantalizing as the friction proved to be, it was still not nearly enough for Edward's liking. "Please. I must have you, take you, properly. If you'll let me--if you want me. You're a _torture_ to me dressed like this...a sweet torture to me always."

"Well, I shan't torment you no longer." Thomas' eyes were heavy-lidded and dark. With a faint smirk, he added, "Why do you think I brought the oil?"

Edward had previously paid no heed to the other bottle on the floor, imagining its purpose was solely to keep the lamp lit. What a wonder, to conceive of Thomas deviously anticipating this, going about his duties as Edward had, all the while thinking only of their upcoming time together and making exacting plans.

Obviously reluctant to withdraw from him for even a moment, Thomas eased off his lap. "We could...on the floor...on my hands and knees--I think that would be easiest." In an instant he was laying out some large, discarded piece of tent or sail cloth, setting his discarded garments upon it to cushion it further.

Overwhelmed and now blistering with an unprecedented heat, Edward finished the job Thomas started by removing his waistcoat and undoing the buttons of his shit, finally deciding to take it off completely. He undid the front placket of his trousers, hands pausing at his small clothes as he a felt a heavy gaze upon him.

Thomas was kneeling, half turned to look him over with unashamed, open-mouthed appreciation. Before his clandestine relationship with Thomas, no one had ever looked at him like that before. With passing attraction or interest, surely there had been a few, but not with a mutual desire that pierced his very soul.

He still often wondered what Thomas saw in him, especially in regards to the physical. While most men on their voyage had grown sharper, leaner, he had become slightly stocky, due partially, he was sure, to the better food and lighter physical work afforded an officer. It showed in his face and chin, an effect certainly not benefited by the darkening circles under his eyes and the slight disarray of his hair and whiskers as their upkeep gradually became less of a priority. He hadn't been disillusioned about his looks to begin with, knowing objectively he was entirely unremarkable. 

But whenever Thomas was presented with a fleeting opportunity, he lavished his attentions upon the thickness of Edward's limbs and his softening, hair-thatched stomach, regardless of the waspish silhouette that was in fashion for men these days. Puzzled as he was by these affections, Edward was exceedingly grateful for them.  
He sunk down to his knees.

"What a lucky man I am," Thomas murmured in a daze, perhaps only to himself, "And all yours for the taking."

He bent forward on hands and knees with his back slightly arched, still clad in the sleek gown. Edward came up behind him, and set down the bottle of whale oil within reach. He felt as if a pagan come to worship at some marble-columned temple of old.

Pushing up the bunched fabric of the skirt all the way to Thomas' waist, Edward had expected to see a pair of short flannel drawers. Instead, he was entirely bare, pert bottom on display, his tight bollocks and leaking, reddened prick hanging heavy and twitching between his legs. 

Like a man possessed, Edward swept his fingers up the delicate calves to lean lightly haired thighs, the muscles warm and taunt before tightly squeezing and kneading his beautiful pale arse. This alone could nearly make him spend. He could hear his own breath coming fast. Thomas shivered at his touch, goosebumps erupting across his skin.  
"Do you remember," Thomas' voice hitched, "what I did for myself with the grease before? I-in the captain's storeroom?"

It had only been on one occasion before that Edward had buggered him in the full sense of the word, after months of infrequent, clandestine meetings. In his recollection of the act it had been fast and frenzied, fraught with worry because of the illegal nature of it, and the potentially fatal consequences if they were happened upon.

They had both been on their feet, Thomas' trousers about his ankles and his chest pushed to the splintering bulkhead. He had urged Edward to cover his mouth with his hand, lest the steward make too loud a noise.

"What if you want to tell me to stop?" Edward had been anxious not only of discovery, but of physically harming his lover.

"Then I'll bite your hand. God, put it in, _please_, Ed...we might never get a chance again," Thomas had hissed. Decidedly consenting, Edward had wrapped one hand over Thomas' lips and used the other to carefully guide in the head of his cock.__

_ _Even if they still knew the possible danger they were putting themselves in, these worries seemed far less significant in the scope of things to come.  
Uncorking the oil, he let it trickle down the crevice of Thomas' buttock, watching it as a few gleaming drops traveled all the way down to the tip of his prick. Pouring a substantial amount into his palm, Edward reached around Thomas' thigh and gave his bobbing cock and few tight strokes._ _

_ _Thomas let out a whine, like an animal caught in a trap. His hips jerked into the touch. "Not too much of that, not so soon," he half whispered. _ _

_ _Edward obediently drew his hand away, caressing as much of the man as he could reach in the process. He kneed Thomas' legs slightly wider apart, who obediently obliged, watching Edward over his shoulder the best he could. With still-slick fingers, Edward gently pressed and rubbed around Thomas' entrance. How strangely sensitive this place was on a man, he mused. From this angle he could better see the hair here that he had only felt briefly before, quite dark but not as thick as his own._ _

_ _"Enough teasing.” Thomas’ voice was strained._ _

_ _"You have a sudden gift for giving orders," Edward hummed, though he was more than pleased to obey them._ _

_ _Properly working his index finger inside, he silently marveled at the bodily warmth, how warm he would feel when he was entirely inside. If the Discovery Services ever approved such pastimes as this, he thought, not a single man would spend the night cold. He bit his tongue to keep from laughing at his such an absurdity._ _

_ _Working his finger in to the joint, he slowly pulled it out and applied more oil. As he eased it knuckle-deep, Thomas clenched tightly around the intrusion. He could feel Thomas' breath more than hear it, feel his pulse in his body._ _

_ _His own nipples were hard-pebbled, not only from the brisk air of the room; he had never paid them any serious heed until Thomas had discovered their sensitivities. Edward rolled and pinched one with the blunt fingers of his free hand, anything to distract from his aching, blood-filled prick. _ _

_ _Slowly, tortuously, he graduated to three full fingers, now easily working in and out of the tight, puckered hole, as if Thomas' body was made for him to fill._ _

_ _ "Jesus. _Oh._ Jesus fucking Christ," Thomas muttering through tight-clenched teeth, any attempt at manners appropriate to a lady--or a gentleman's steward--far, far gone. "That's," he made a half-choked noise "I want it. Oh, I want--"_ _

_ _"What was that?" Edward inquired, emboldened. "You'll have to tell me what you want."_ _

_ _He withdrew the digits completely. Thomas looked over his shoulder with defiance, strands of sweat-matted hair hanging in eyes. Edward wasn't sure if he had ever seen such an intensity upon his features. "I want your great, big, bloody cock in me, and I want it _now_, Lieutenant Little."___ _

_ _ _ _Edward’s blood felt as if in flames. "Yes, Miss,” he answered serenely._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Hands shaking with a quiet excitement, he applied a generous amount of oil on his prick, some of it dripping on the spare tarp below. Still keeping the bunched velvet up and out of his way, he rubbed the head of it up and down the cleft of Thomas' cheeks, savoring the luxurious, supple fullness of the flesh. The bareness of his backside and manhood, at odds with his still-clothed upper half, made the sight more impossibly salacious._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _A thin thread of pearly white already dribbled from Thomas' cock onto the inner draping of the dress, now stained dark in places with excess oil and sweat. The steward groaned headily. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Finally, Edward lined himself up and pushed, teeth gritting and in face screwing up in pleasure. It was something so good that he shouldn't have been allowed it, didn't deserve it. No longer plagued by the hurry and haste of their last assignation, he lingered in the moment, luxuriating in the obscenity of watching his cock engulfed by Thomas' body. ____

___ For a few seconds he was anywhere but here, anywhere but a dim, musty crevice in the belly of a ship. Perhaps they were somewhere green, carelessly rutting in a sun-drenched field like animals._ _ _

__ __ __ Slowly, very slowly, now nearly to the hilt, he laid his chest on Thomas' back. The feverish heat of his skin seeped into Edward's core through the flimsy, velvet-soft garment. Had he ever been this humanly close to another person, he wondered, relishing every facet of the sensation, though, at the same time, trying to stave off his eventual completion.  


"Alright?" he whispered to Thomas, a worry continually niggling at him for the man's possible discomfort.  
  
"Ed, kiss me," was the reply. 

_ _ _ _ Edward bent his head the best he could, sloppily meeting the corner of Thomas' mouth, their saliva making nearly as much mess as the oil had, and his whiskers no doubt scraping his lover's sensitive cheek._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ He began gradually rocking into him, bringing himself upright again to angle into even sharper thrusts. Thomas' arms shook as he grew pliant and yielding in his reception, until he they folded beneath him and he laid his cheek on the folded jumper beneath him, the closest thing they had to a makeshift pillow. Edward held him by the waist, keeping Thomas’ hips off the ground and the skirt bunched up and well out of the way. Even partly muffled by the thick wool, he could detect Thomas' outright moaning--ragged desperate sounds from deep in his throat--as Edward picked up an even, rapid pace._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _"Yes, there, there...oh God, Ed. _Fuck._" The last syllable was hissed through gritted teeth._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Still concerned for Thomas' comfort, he drew himself out slowly and added yet more oil. Thomas whined hoarsely at the withdrawal. When Edward pressed back in again, a yielding drag of flesh on flesh, the mindless bliss of it overtook his senses. With a deep, stirring need--perhaps muscle memory from years of holding a horse’s reins--he gripped the dress tightly by the corset-like stays. Pulling Thomas to meet each of his frenzied thrusts, Edward impaled him with even more force. Each time he was rewarded with a sharp, keening cry, the liquid heat in his belly threatening to overflow._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ The wet smacking of skin was so loud that it was a wonder they hadn't awoken the dead. Even in the midst of it, some small part of him was worried about the violet bruises he would no doubt leave at Thomas' tailbone, though the tinge of guilt did little to slow him._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ What few people knew, was how pettish and possessive Edward could grow, if given the chance. Perhaps it was growing up in such a large family, having to suffice solely on hand-me-down clothes and books and toys--if you had any new treasure to yourself, wholly your own, you coveted it fiercely. _ _ _ _

_ _ _ _Sweat dripped from Edward’s brow. "_Mine._ You're mine, you're mine, you're mine," he growled with each snap of his hips. As he pulled at the ribbons with his white-knuckled grip, the back of the dress began to rip at the neckline, splintering to delicate threads._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _From what he could see, Thomas’ eyes were screwed up tightly in bliss, a trickle of drool at the corner of his open mouth. Every single day the steward conducted himself with the utmost discipline, a perfect air of self-possession and poise, But through some powers beyond his understanding, Edward was the one who could bring him to shuddering, mewling pieces behind closed doors._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ Thighs trembling, Thomas tried to work a hand around the heavy skirts to the place in between his legs. Edward beat him to it, his movements growing clumsy as he simultaneously frigged Thomas' prick, the man’s breath growing more and more shallow. Suddenly, Thomas' body seemed to go lax and boneless under his own, a hot wetness spurting between Edward's calloused fingers. Thomas' teeth were clenched in the woolen fabric beneath him to half-cull the loud, lovely string of noises that erupted from him._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _He would have paused if it were not for the fact that he was sure to follow in a matter of seconds. "Close," he grunted, savoring each tight pump of his cock. A tremor ran through him, as powerful as crackling pack ice underfoot. Finally, grunting and spilling, his vision went to stars._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _As it finally ebbed and flowed, a slack, jelly-like feeling came over his limbs, as if he had sprinted a mile and then come to lay down and rest. That tense feeling in every muscle and sinew, wound so tight with each passing day, had loosened into sweet bliss._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ He stayed collapsed upon Thomas, gently petting his bicep, until the steward made some small noise of complaint at their position. The obscene, slick noise that sounded as he withdrew his softening prick, no doubt brought a further flush to his sweat-beaded face, along with the trickle of white seed that ran down the crevice of Thomas' bollocks.  
____

___ Thomas sat up, moving as if he had a crick in his back, mouth still hung open and pupils blown. "Help me with this, will you, love?" he managed, gesturing weakly to the dress he was still wearing. With every tear and stain the garment was fit to be burned._ _ _

_ _ _ _ Wordless and dazed, Edward stripped him. He was surprised when Thomas' hands went to his open unbuttoned breeches and drawers, helping to guide them the rest of the way down his hips._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ In breath-stained silence they arranged themselves as comfortably as they could, unclothed and unfettered, with Thomas' head laid so calm and so still on Edward's chest that he might have succumbed to sleep. Lazily, Edward touched the hair on Thomas' bent forearms, delicately tracing the green veins he could find on the underside of pale skin._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ Adam and Eve had been cast out of the garden for their shared sin, fleeing paradise and protection, their souls exposed to the evils of the world. In some time--days, weeks, months, it was immaterial--the men would trudge out into that wasteland, leaving their garden of wood and sail behind._ _ _ _

_ _ _ _ Edward was glad he had known good and evil; glad he had taken a bite of the apple. Though no such delicacy existed for thousands of miles, his mind's eye conjured a tableau of Thomas bringing a ripened fruit to his mouth, savoring the juice as it ran down his chin. The lingering taste of wine on Edward's tongue would have to suffice. For the first time in his life, he was truly laid bare._ _ _ _


End file.
